So, this will have to be short. Like a movie preview.
But last night, I made a vat of cookie dough while watching an X-Man movie marathon on my couch and I was legitimately 2 chicken nuggets short of a McDonald’s happy meal. That’s how much joy I felt at what my night held.
Just me, my cookie dough, my couch and my mutants.
And I hate getting all Liz Lemon up in here, but is it so wrong that I saw no problem with that situation?
Actual thoughts that crossed my mind:
-This is fun. I’m having so much fun right now.
– If I ever seriously date anyone ever again, I sincerely think that not liking X-Men might be a relationship deal breaker.
– On that note, of all the X-Men, minus Wolverine (who is the cliche obvious choice) I think I would date Professor X because I feel like he is sensitive and engaging intellectually (obviously) and has an unexpected and wicked sense of humor but also a kind heart.
– … I would date myself right now.
Is it so bad to like your own company so much occasionally, that you think this? I vote no. With all the self-loathing negative energy we surround ourselves in on a seemingly daily basis, a rare moment where I think I am the greatest person alive (in a completely humble way), is (in my opinion) a welcomed and healthy distraction. Much like an entire bowl of cookie dough.
And I know that I’m supposed to want to be out at various happy hours delightfully gabbing about the latest and greatest up-and-comings with the hot single co-eds of Los Angeles, but every so often, I honestly just want to meditate in the glorious loving rays of unproductive doing nothing sunshine. Very simply, I want to actively embrace my inner loser-loner-dom.
I want someone to ask, “Hey Meg! What is your crazy kitty cat butt doing tonight? Getting wild!?”
And I will respond with zero guilt whatsoever, “Oh. FOR SURE. I am monopolizing my couch in the fetal position while hanging out with with my main men, Magneto and Iceman. Kendrick Lamar MAY even make an appearance in the form of my new ringtone. I will also be endorsing Paula Dean‘s stance on butter, pre-diabetes. Pants will be optional. Cheese will not. Invitation only and sadly, you’re not invited.”
Just saying, but a night that could have been devoted to a lot of “woe is me and my nerdy lame lifestyle choices (open mouth, insert cookie dough)” was instead turned into, “but what if I was a mutant and in the event that I wake up as one tomorrow what would my preferred power be (persuasion, but used in a non-creepy way. Like just for free concert tickets and entry into VIP sections).”
Because as you can see guys, it’s all about the ‘tude. I choose to enjoy the time I spend with my couch. Save the self-loathing for Monday afternoons in your office chair. For the after-effects of the cookie dough. And whenever you’re feeling down about about not being out, just remember: Meg’s doing it.
And look how good she looks.
Couch ya later,